


Pansman oswa bal?

by vladamsandler



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Pining, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:29:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25040914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vladamsandler/pseuds/vladamsandler
Summary: Baptiste joins Overwatch and Mercy unexpectedly develops feelings for the man.
Relationships: Genji Shimada/Tekhartha Zenyatta (Implied), Jean-Baptiste Augustin/Angela “Mercy” Ziegler
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

Angela Ziegler is one of the brightest minds in the world when it comes to medicine, but there are a lot of things about life that are still a mystery to her.

She is no spring hen. Angela is aware of her dashingly good looks, and has been since she became accustomed to bold advances from men and women alike in her late adolescence and academic years. What she has still yet to master is how to approach someone she finds herself endeared to. It’s her well kept secret, how achingly awkward and pathetic she becomes around her crushes. Angela simply exudes confidence and authority as often as possible, and usually her medical brilliance makes up for the rest.

The tinge of Imposter Syndrome troubles her less and less as she gets older, but she still struggles with the responsibility of her position as head of medical research in the recalled Overwatch organization from time to time. The worst is meeting someone new and learning of their incredible achievements in her field. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but occasionally wonders what her rival Dr. O’Deorain of Talon would do in certain situations where Angela is called upon to make a difficult decision.

She hides her doubts most of all from her boss, Winston. The chummy gorilla seems to trust her to the moon colony and back and values her input on situations that don’t even require a medical opinion. She likes him and it is a pleasure to see him enter her office one morning, as he is oft to do, presumably to ask her a question about the upcoming mission next month he’s been planning for quite some time with the help of his senior agents.

“Hello, Dr. Ziegler.”

“ _Moin_ , Winston. What can I do for you today?” Angela turns from where she’s tinkering with the Valkyrie suit at her workbench and stands from her stool to address her company.

“I’d like to introduce you to our newest recruit. He will be assisting your department in the field.” Winston steps aside to reveal behind his massive form a handsome man extending his hand. “This is Jean-Baptiste Augustin. Uh, did I say that right?”

The handsome man chuckles. “Baptiste is just fine!” He approaches Angela, hand remaining extended. “Dr. Ziegler, it’s an honor to meet you. I have heard much of your humanitarian work.”

Angela smiles, taking in the charming demeanor of the man before her. “ _Danke_ , Baptiste. Welcome to Overwatch!”

Baptiste’s exuberance takes on a bashful note as he inquires, “Do you perhaps remember our brief encounter in Venezuela a couple years ago? You were running triage efforts on the outskirts of the treaty line. I visited your tent on a supplies request from the AZ headquarters. Your work in field bioregeneration there was astounding!”

Angela winces internally, her smile frozen to her face. “I... Uh, yes, of course, Dr. Baptiste! I remember!” she lies quickly.

Baptiste squints one eye with another smile and points at her. “Remind me to invite you to my next poker match; I like these odds!”

Winston smiles uncomfortably and Angela laughs politely at the perceptive dig. Even in a moment of embarrassment, this lovely man seems to lose no stride of friendliness.

“I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Angela slips her hands into her lab coat pockets and shifts on her feet. She feels a blush touch her cheeks when she’s caught out, but also feels warm in the sunshine-like presence of the man.

Winston dives into the conversation to save his coworker, “Baptiste, can I interest you in a tour of the medical bay? It’s just down the hall.”

“Alright. It was a pleasure, Dr. Ziegler,” he says with a small bow.

“Angela,” she blurts. “Please.”

“Angela,” Baptiste repeats as he starts to walk away backwards, a small smile hinting in the corner of his mouth.

Angela swears she saw a wink as the handsome man turns away to follow Winston’s dull padding out the door of her office. She doesn’t notice her own smile as she returns to her work.

* * *

The base is buzzing with excitement the day after the new recruit’s introductions and tour. Angela enters the communal kitchen midmorning to hear bits of gossip about the endearing man among many conversations.

“...dual Biotic Launcher rifle with three-round bursts and projectile speed...” Ana babbles excitedly to Torbjörn as he sips coffee from a mug and nods.

“...MOON BOOTS that send him flying straight up! That kind of mobility...!” Lúcio says as he and Hana fervently discuss evasive battlefield maneuvers.

“I heard he worked for Talon. I do not trust it...” Zarya bites in her thick accent to Satya as the latter picks apart a muffin with a look of distaste.

“What’s gotten into everyone today?” Angela asks as she takes a seat at a table with Fareeha and Mei. “You’d think the founder of Overwatch himself has graced our halls.”

“Have you met the new guy? He’s very nice!” Mei asks.

“Is all this over Baptiste? Yes, I was introduced to him in my office yesterday. He _is_ very nice,” Angela smiles in agreement.

“He’s a Talon mole if you ask me.” Fareeha crosses her legs in uncomfortably-looking tight jeans and sips black coffee from a large mug.

Angela laughs and peels a banana. “What makes you say that?”

“Think of the timing. Awfully convenient, don’t you think?”

Angela considers the Talon raid the senior agents are planning for next month and purses her lips thoughtfully.

“He _was_ a Talon mercenary before he enlisted in Overwatch...” Mei agrees in a wary tone.

“Don’t be paranoid,” Angela replies. “Do you think Jack and Winston would welcome just anyone into our organization? Have some faith in their vetting skills.”

Fareeha just raises her eyebrows doubtfully and sips from her mug.

After breakfast, Angela takes an hour to read in the lounge before she commits herself to an afternoon of work in her office. She sits comfortably among pillows propped against the structural support of the window walls that extend from the kitchen and wrap around the main part of the base overlooking the Gibraltar coast. From time to time she looks up from her book to admire the stretching sea waves or to watch Zenyatta and Genji meditate together peacefully in the center of the large common space. The omnic’s orbs calmly circle his head with quiet humming.

After another chapter, her gaze wanders again and she spots a familiar figure jogging the narrow trail that follows a jutted cleft of rock along the cliff face. Angela peers with interest as Baptiste winds along the path and notes his state of undress. Another light blush touches her cheeks as her professional associate bounces along in nothing but neon shorts and running shoes. As he winds closer, she can pick out the shine of sweat on his shoulders and pecs under the sun.

She drops her book in embarrassment when someone calls to her from across the room. “Oi, doc!”

The meditating couple don’t even seem to register the new presence blinking into the room with flashes of blue light. “I’m not disturbin’ an off-duty moment am I?” Lena asks in her usual sing-song voice.

Angela removes her glasses and sets them down on her book, happy for the distraction. “Not at all. How can I help?” she asks.

“Thanks, love.” Lena plops down on the floor next to where Angela was reclined by the window and proffers her leg in front of her. “So I was makin’ a quick jaunt to the range an’ back and as I’m zippin’ along I get this feelin’ of a click in me ankle, so I dipped ova to the launchpad to test it out as I go a few laps rounda bend but it hasn’t gone away and it’s like massive distraction as I’m tryna keep from blippin’ into crates and the what-not lyin’ round–“

Lena continues to chitter away at the longwinded explanation as Angela sits up cross-legged and gently manipulates the hero’s troubling joint. She feels the click more than she hears it and the Brit’s quick spew halts with an _“Ow!”_

“Oop, _entschuldigung_. Lena, please remember to take a day of rest after each mission. You’ve overused your ankle running everywhere you go.”

“Aw, rats,” Lena responds as she rubs her lower leg.

“The reoccurrence of this old injury will decrease with disciplined care,” Angela tuts. It’s a common conversation among the heroes recovering from battle in her med bay. “Take two Ibuprofen and just try to relax today. It should improve by tomorrow.”

“Roger, doc. Thanks a bunch!” Lena blips away before Angela even sees her stand up.

“Are you sure telling _Tracer_ to relax is not a futile effort?” Genji offers with the sound of amusement in his filtered voice.

“I’m not a miracle worker,” Angela responds as she stands with her book and glasses. “Besides, I know the amount of time she spends around Lúcio in the rec chamber. I’ve done my job and his music’s passive healing aura will see to Lena’s recovery sooner than I could get her to sit still for a moment under my Caduceus staff.”

“Very well, doctor,” Genji chuckles before returning to meditative silence.

Angela takes another glance out the window before she leaves for her office, forgetting what she was unconsciously looking for. She shakes her head to clear the absent thought.

* * *

A handful of days later, Angela and Brigitte walk together down the pathway leading along the outside of the building from the med bay to the shuttle bay to meet Torbjörn for lunch. Angela delights in the conversations about field triage she can hold with the young Lindholm, remembering how she’d watched the prodigy grow up right before her eyes. As she’s asking a question about Brigitte’s armor, however, she stops mid-sentence with an “Oh!”

The two women nearly collide with Baptiste rounding the corner with his nose buried in a tablet. At Angela’s interjection, he stops and whips his head up. “Hello Dr. Ziegl– Angela!”

She smiles, pleasantly surprised. She hadn’t encountered the man since their (re)introduction the week previous. “ _Hallo,_ Baptiste. How are you settling in?”

“Just fine, thank you. And who might this lovely lady be?” Baptiste says as he turns his attention to Angela’s companion.

It hadn’t occurred to her that the two perhaps hadn’t met yet. “Excuse my manners. Brigitte, this is our department’s newest recruit, Baptiste. Baptiste, this is Brigitte.”

_“Hei hei!”_ Brigitte chirps as she holds out a gloved hand.

“ _S ak kap fet?_ Pleased to meet you.” Baptiste feigns a traditional kiss to the top of Brigitte’s hand and she giggles.

Angela discreetly clasps her hands in delight of his charm.

“Have you met my father yet, Baptiste? He’s head of engineering.”

“I can’t say that I have!”

Angela’s delight quickly vanishes as she notices where this is going.

“We’re meeting him for lunch if you’d care to join us,” Brigitte offers kindly.

“–If you’re not busy... or anything,” Angela adds lamely. A blush punctuates her conflicting feelings about the handsome man’s accompaniment.

“ _Mési!_ But I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Well, you don’t have to stay the whole time, but I’d love to introduce you,” Brigitte appeals with a look of admiration.

Baptiste side eyes Angela thoughtfully and she shifts nervously awaiting his response.

“Sounds good. I’m not busy at all.” He tucks the tablet under his arm and smiles at Angela as he takes his place between the two women.

The three of them continue their stroll across the base, Brigitte babbling happily about the achievements of her father. Angela quietly despairs about what to say. Suddenly it’s as if casual conversation has become a complex equation. She hears Brigitte mention her in her spiel and pause for an expected addition.

She and Baptiste turn to Angela who completely blanks, not hearing what Brigitte had said at all. “Um, I’m sorry?”

Brigitte inspects her curiously. “I said you’ve been friends of my parents for a while now, and Papa is kind of how you and I both got involved with Overwatch. Well, him and Reinhardt.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve known Torbjörn and Reinhardt for years. It’s been an honor watching you develop into such a fine warrior under their tutelage,” Angela recovers gracefully.

Baptiste listens intently as Brigitte carries on singing praise of her father and godfather and Angela sighs inwardly in relief at having the man’s sunshine gaze directed away from her.

For reasons she is not quite able to explain yet, sometimes she feels like an ant under a magnifying glass around Baptiste. When he directs his bright smile at her, she feels something on fire inside.

Baptiste doesn’t stay for lunch but expresses deep appreciation for the introduction to an Overwatch legend. Torbjörn is polite enough but expresses to Angela later on in private that he doesn’t think their organization has any need for more star-eyed fanboys.

Brigitte catches Angela off-guard on their way back from the shuttle bay after lunch. “So, Baptiste...” She doesn’t continue, only smirking at Angela mischievously.

Angela clears her throat at the unexpected change in topic. “Yes? What about him?”

“Quite the endearing fella, wouldn’t you say? Handsome too. Kind of dreamy, actually.” Brigitte punctuates her teasing with a nudge to Angela’s shoulder.

Angela blushes and doesn’t even know how to respond. “ _Na ja..._ I suppose. What are you getting at?” she asks tersely.

“Come on, Angela. You’re _totally_ different when he’s around. It’s like you get all wound up and tongue-tied. I’ve never seen you like that before!”

“I think you’re mistaken,” Angela responds nervously. She’s noticed the effect the man has on her behavior as well and hasn’t been interested in examining the phenomenon too closely.

“Fair enough. Although I do think you two would be a cute couple!” Brigitte laughs at the look of incredulity Angela throws at her.

“He is a professional colleague, nothing more,” Angela insists with a blush. She really doesn’t need young romantics confusing her feelings about an acquaintance she quite honestly knows next to nothing about. She privately resolves to keep her relationship with the handsome man strictly professional as she bids Brigitte farewell and escapes to her quarters in relief.


	2. Chapter 2

The last big meeting before the Talon raid mission requires more agents’ consultations than she expects. The regular senior agents are all in attendance; Jack, Winston, Reinhardt, Ana, Torbjörn, and Angela; as well as a collection of trusted heroes; Lena, McCree, Zenyatta, Genji, Mei, and Zarya.

Winston introduces the mission and the end goal list of achievements. It’s one of the larger engagements that Overwatch has taken on since Recall and everyone seems on edge.

“I’d like to remind everyone that the details of this mission are _highly classified._ That which is to be shared with _anyone_ outside of those of you invited to this meeting today will be extremely limited and monitored,” Jack commands menacingly.

McCree rolls his eyes at Lena and she suppresses a giggle.

“Uh, yes, as many of you know, I have been in contact with the city council of Talon’s location, and even a limited number of their officials have been briefed at all,” Winston adds. “We want to minimize as much risk of engagement as possible. This will be a discreet, in-and-out thing.”

“But what of the glory!” Reinhardt shouts at his seemingly regular volume. “We shall make them pay for the suffering they have caused the innocent!”

“Jack, do you want me to sleep-dart him? Because I can sleep-dart him,” Ana offers jokingly.

Torbjörn laughs. “That I would like to see!”

Mei raises her hand timidly. “Um, excuse me. Why are so many agents assigned to this mission if we’re aiming for _discreet?”_

“Old man is about as discreet as Siberian bear hunting its first post-hibernation meal!” Zarya adds, enunciating thickly.

“Reinhardt’s about as discreet as ridin’ a horse in a drive-thru,” McCree laughs in his southern drawl.

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose as more jokes are cajoled.

“I believe,” Angela raises her voice to properly respond to Mei’s inquiry, “most agents will be on stand-by as emergency response in case Talon is made aware of our presence.”

“They won’t see what hit ‘em!” Lena offers confidently.

“That’s right. Our more agile and less-noticeable agents will move in first. Backup will be on close stand-by. With all of our precaution, there shouldn’t be any trouble at all,” Winston explains.

The rest of the meeting consists of droll instructions and warnings, many things that the experienced members of Overwatch didn’t need reminding of. Many of those in the meeting would be attending the mission, some staying behind to monitor comms and security footage feeds. A few extra agents not in attendance of the meeting would also be called to duty. Everything seemed well planned out and most, if not all, of the likely eventualities accounted for.

Angela was not eager to don her field persona, but felt a fierce protectiveness of the agents in the organization, many of whom were more or less family to her. The days following the meeting consisted of isolated teams prepping for their individual mission objectives. Ana and Angela meet a couple times to review their personal procedures and count their weapon stocks together. They were one of the standby teams, positioned in a comfortable hotel room with a decent view of the Talon headquarters. They check in the night before the mission to get settled and for Ana to prepare her positioning.

“I’m going to the roof to scout vantage points,” Ana informs Angela curtly before leaving the room. She and Angela have always been on rocky terms since Torbjörn convinced Angela to utilize her research in creation of Ana’s biotic rifle. It never sat right with Angela to see her hard work towards peace so blatantly weaponized.

“Pre-launch status,” Winston requests over secure comms.

Angela grabs an earpiece from their makeshift tech-table in the corner and presses it into her ear as she returns to inspecting and tuning her Caduceus staff. “All green. Ready for initiation on your mark.” The agents actually infiltrating the base wouldn’t be landing until tomorrow, but Angela liked to express her preparedness well ahead of any danger to their heroes.

“Slight adjustment to plans, Mercy. Incoming support to your team. Copy.”

Angela stops fiddling with her staff and sits down at the table, searching for whatever mission update she and Ana had missed over all the temporary screens set up. “Repeat and clarify, _bitte_ ,” she requests over comms, but doesn’t receive a reply before hearing a quiet huff of effort from outside the window.

Angela quickly mutes all communication channels and grabs her pistol in alarm. Holding it steady upwards, she moves stealthily towards the window.

A small knock on the pane behind the curtains resounds and Angela warily parts the fabric with the end of her weapon.

“ _Psst,_ Dr. Ziegler! Open the window!” a familiar accented voice whispers in the dark.

Angela unlocks the window with incredulity. “Baptiste? What are you doing here?”

The newest Overwatch recruit steps through the window and closes it behind him quietly.

“How did you...?” Angela trails off, peering down outside from their third story view.

“My exo-boots,” Baptiste says simply, crouching down to demonstrate them powering up before dismissing the potential energy. “The heads of operation assigned me last-minute to the emergency response support unit, just in case. I was quickly briefed on the way here. Where’s Agent Amari?” Baptiste slings his backpack off and sits down on one of the beds to begin extracting himself from the clunky footwear.

Angela clears her throat and tugs her robe tighter over her sheer silk pajamas. “On the roof... I think?” She sits dumbly on the other bed and slowly accepts the troubling change of events.

“Anything I need to know before the big day tomorrow?” Baptiste seems totally at home already as he sheds his jacket and stores away his boots and gun. He smiles up at Angela while he digs through his backpack absently.

Angela combs her fingers through her hair nervously before deciding to simply put it up like she usually keeps it. “Ana will be doing most of the active healing from here. If anyone needs emergency aid or evac, that’s where I... we come in, I suppose.” She escapes to the kitchenette for a glass of water, if only to distance herself from the man’s glaring brightness for a moment.

“Sounds easy enough!” Baptiste moves to the head of the bed and reclines with a tablet. “ _Cheri,_ do you mind fetching me a glass as well?”

“Of water?” Angela asks, immediately wincing internally at her ridiculous question.

“Ah, look at me, loafing around as soon as I arrive despite having two perfectly good legs! _Ekskiz._ ” Baptiste tosses his tablet aside and rolls upward off the bed.

Mercy drinks from her glass nervously as the handsome man approaches and she pushes up her glasses, feeling suddenly hyper-aware of her appearance.

Baptiste pauses directly in front of her and looks deeply into her eyes with questioning amusement. “Excuse me, _Cheri,_ ” he says quietly.

“Huh?” Angela grunts breathlessly.

Baptiste leans into her space and reaches around her delicately to grab the second glass from the counter.

“Oh! _Entschuldigung! Scheiße..._ ” Angela starts, clumsily moving out of the way so Baptiste can reach the sink. She sets her glass down on the edge of the counter and turns away to cover her face with her hand briefly.

Baptiste simply chuckles as he fills his glass and returns to his claimed bed on the other side of the room.

Angela fetches her book from her bag and sets up on the adjacent bed. She attempts to read as Baptiste reviews mission briefings on his tablet, but her attention keeps drawing toward the troubling accommodations.

If he takes that bed... And she takes this bed... Where will Ana sleep?

Angela eyes Ana’s bag nervously, placed at the foot of the bed Angela currently occupies, clearly unofficially claiming it as her own. She’s broken out of her thoughts by Baptiste’s smooth voice.

“Dr. Ziegler– Ah, Angela, I feel we haven’t had much time to get to know each other since my recruitment.”

Angela sets her book down and looks over at Baptiste, struggling to conceal her wariness. “Mhm?” She pushes up her glasses again.

“If I may, how did you end up in this field of study?”

“I suppose... it all came very naturally for me...” She bites her lip, unsure of how much personal details she should reveal to a near stranger. “Growing up during the Omnic Crisis made me want to learn how to help as many people as I could...” She trailed off, uncertain as to what to add. Silence stretched on while Baptiste waited patiently.

“Is it true?” she blurts.

“Is what true?” Baptiste asks with a half smile.

“About your... involvement with Talon.”

Baptiste’s smile vanishes. He takes a slow drink from his glass of water before responding. “Yes. I, too, grew up witnessing the destruction of the Omnic Crisis. My parents...” The man looks deeper in thought than Angela has ever seen him. “After I lost them... I knew I needed to do something to help my people. I became a mercenary and lived lavishly... Foolishly thinking I was making a positive impact in the war.” Baptiste sits up straight to look Angela in the eyes. “I know what the other agents must think of me... Of my background. I know I can’t keep that a secret from all of Overwatch... But Talon mislead me and all of the other poor men and women who signed up to work for them. Talon is only an agent of chaos and destruction.”

Baptiste slouches back against the pillows once more, suddenly looking at a loss for energy. Angela frowns at how drained of light he appears. She struggles with an appropriate response before taking her glasses off and setting them on the bedside table. How did this conversation get so personal so fast? With a flutter in her chest and a feeling of determination, Angela gets up to sit on the other bed with Baptiste.

She sits opposite him, facing the headboard, and delicately places her hand upon his. She swallows the lump in her throat before finally responding, “My parents died in the Omnic Crisis too. I know what it feels like to... need to make a difference, to save others, at any cost.”

Baptiste looks up at her with a subtle look of wonder before his expression seems to exude a quiet gratitude, but before he can respond, the hotel room door swings open and Ana shuffles inside in her hooded cloak.

Angela snatches her hand away and stands up suddenly. Ana stops and appraises the new addition to their team. “Hello, Dr. Baptiste.”

Baptiste stands as well, if only to be polite. “Just Baptiste, please. Apologies for the last minute drop-in. Orders from on up.”

Ana just shrugs and hangs up her cloak before heading to the bathroom to change into her pajamas and brush her teeth.

Baptiste puts his tablet away and starts crawling into bed. Angela wrings her hands nervously. What of sleeping arrangements? She creeps discreetly towards the bathroom and knocks gently on the door.

“What?” Ana asks gruffly.

“Do you mind sharing a bed tonight? Seeing as how we’ve only accommodations for two?”

Ana opens the door and smirks. “Sure, but I’m a kicker.” She walks straight past Angela to flop into the other bed. She flips her braid over her shoulder and takes a moment to get comfortable before light snores can be heard from the older woman.

Angela brushes her teeth in the doorway with a look of despair. As she rinses and turns off the light in the bathroom, Baptiste sits up and smiles sleepily. “Angela, I am not a kicker, if that makes any difference.”

Angela blushes deeply as he turns over. She doesn’t respond as she turns off the last light and carefully sidles into bed next to Ana. She isn’t left with much room and ends up teetering on the edge of the mattress.

Just as she finally begins to drift asleep to lazy thoughts of a Creole accent, a swift kick to her hip sends her straight onto the floor.

She covers her face with her hand for a moment before silently crawling into the adjacent bed. She feels her face grow hot as the other occupant politely moves away to give her a little extra room. She’d hoped he was already asleep.

Angela dreams of her parents and of horrific bloodshed.


	3. Chapter 3

“ _Cheri,_ you are safe.”

Angela snaps awake and flinches away from the touch on her shoulder.

“ _Ekskiz._ ” Baptiste removes his hand hastily. “Nothing but a bad dream,” he assures her.

Angela sits up in bed and wipes the patches of sweat from her brow. She feels her hair in disarray and quickly reties it up to appear more professional.

“You alright, love?”

Angela blushes at the term of endearment and pulls the covers up to hide her modesty. “I’m alright, thank you,” she replies surprisingly smoothly.

Baptiste is also sitting up in bed with his arms resting on his pulled up knees. He remains examining Angela with a look of concern. Angela averts her gaze when she notices he’s shed his top sometime in the night. Since when have shirtless men caused her to blush like a schoolgirl?

“Coffee,” Ana grunts from the kitchenette. She drifts into the bathroom without another word.

“Big day today. How about some breakfast to start it off right?” Baptiste smiles at Angela before hopping out of bed to inspect the inside of the fridge. She can't see it, but assumes his look of disappointment.

Angela quickly jumps out of bed and wraps her robe around herself while he’s turned away. She watches curiously as Baptiste seemingly crafts a full breakfast out of thin air while she waits patiently for her turn in the bathroom.

Baptiste hums happily to himself as he fries up two meager eggs, fetches a couple instant oatmeal packets from his backpack, and pours two cups of coffee. Angela hums her gratitude as she pulls the warm mug close and watches her oatmeal firm.

Without anyone to see, she allows herself to admire the rippling muscles under Baptiste’s dark skin and notices with interest the edge of what appears to be a dark tattoo on his hip.

_“Bon appétit!”_ he says as he serves Angela a small plate of scrambled eggs with a smile and a wink.

Angela flushes and thanks him bashfully. Baptiste uses the bathroom after Ana while Angela eats. Ana is the first ready to leave, understandably as she is the only one one in the unit who really needs to be ready at launch time. Ana tests her comms device before she fetches her rifle and Angela hears gruff exchanges between her and Jack as she dons her cloak and presumably heads to the roof without so much of a good morning or goodbye.

Angela eats in silence after the door shuts, thinking about spending the day in the tiny hotel room with Baptiste. Her thoughts on the quiet domesticity of the situation are immediately derailed by the sound of the shower shutting off in the bathroom.

Just that one door separating them while he’s in a state of entire undress...

Angela blushes and shoves the rest of her oatmeal into her mouth without reason as Baptiste exits the bathroom. She gulps loudly.

“Slow down, _Cheri!_ Just because I have the medical expertise to save you from choking doesn’t mean I want to!” He laughs as he rounds the counter to warm the second mug of coffee unclaimed by Ana in the microwave.

Angela internally chastises herself for thoughts of an outdated form of resuscitation with embarrassment. She finally escapes to the bathroom in desperate silence and puts herself together. She feels more confident after brushing her teeth, applying deodorant, and donning her Valkyrie suit.

She feels comfortable in the costume, the persona. Mercy was like her alter-ego, a hero with no fear and fierce determination to protect life at all cost. She feels stronger and more capable of handling any situation as Mercy.

Perhaps even something as ridiculous as a teeny tiny crush on a professional acquaintance.

After Baptiste stands in his exo-boots, he smiles proudly at her confident stance. “Ah, my angel of mercy. Let us keep our comrades safe together, eh?”

Mercy smiles back and nods definitively.

* * *

It doesn’t take long for the whole operation to go tits-up and for their emergency support response unit to be called in.

Mercy and Baptiste had spent the day listening to the comms relays together, watching the display screens for live updates of the launch of the mission, and occasionally chatting amicably like close friends.

They snap instantly into their battle mindsets when Ana shouts over comms _“Tracer is down, repeat Tracer is down. Evac required.”_

Mercy jumps to her feet, holsters her pistol and grabs her Caduceus staff. Similarly, Baptiste grabs his gun and opens the window, ready to jump all the way down to the street.

_“Nein!”_ Mercy exclaims, “With me! Come on!” She extends her hand to him and then pulls him to her chest. Her guardian angel wings hum loudly as the feather beams grow longer for takeoff.

Baptiste yelps as Mercy takes to the sky and they hold onto each other tightly as Ana directs them through comms. Once inside the giant warehouse adjacent to the headquarters building, they hear the gunfire.

Mercy lands behind a couple large metal shipping containers and gently sets Baptiste down.

“What a ride!” He says with mirth.

She smiles back at him, adrenaline coursing through her, and touches her earpiece. “Valkyrie online. Mercy on call.”

Baptiste cocks his rifle and peers around the containers to monitor their perimeter. He even boost-jumps up just high enough to peek over the top of the containers.

_“Mercy, extraction of Tracer priority number one!”_ Jack barks in her ear. Ana relays location information before informing the team she’s moving to a new vantage point.

“What should I do?” Baptiste asks into his earpiece with a little embarrassment.

“Cover me,” Mercy responds simply with a smile before zooming off, hovering gracefully just above the ground. She doesn’t catch what else Jack commands of Baptiste as sounds of the firefight drown everything else out.

Mercy snaps her staff to her back and wields her pistol, dipping and weaving through the air as she spots a recognizable part of the building based on Ana’s instructions. After banking quickly around a corner, she spots the unconscious body of Tracer guarded on one side by a huge ice wall and on the other by a human-sized block of ice.

Mercy holsters her gun and activates the healing beam from her staff onto her fallen comrade. Just as she zooms up, the ice block shatters and Mei takes a deep breath.

“Mercy! I’m so glad you’re here!”

The ice wall shatters next and reveals Talon agents sprinting their way.

“Go! With Tracer! I’ll hold them off!” Mei runs straight towards the throng of agents, icy mist spewing from her gun, and Mercy feels the familiar ache of guilt for picking up one hero to fly her to safety, only to abandon another.

“Backup request for Mei,” Mercy relays as she takes to the air again.

_“Copy.”_ Comes the reply.

Shortly thereafter, Mercy looks back to see shurikens embedding themselves in the now fleeing Talon agents. Genji dashes through the throng with an Orb of Harmony floating above his head, comforting Mercy’s worries.

_ “Sniper, be wary.” _

Zayra’s gruff warning comes a moment too late for Mercy. She hears the loud fire of a powerful weapon and a bullet whips through one of her wings. The hard light feather beam glitches for a moment causing a slight dip in her altitude.

“I could use some assistance!” She calls into the comm.

Another explosive fire and this time the bullet lands true in her torso armor. Mercy cries out and careens dangerously towards the ground.

“Get in here!” A voice cries out. Mercy hears it over comms at the same time as she locates the sound near her. She sees Baptiste throw some sort of round device that bounces against the floor and then against a shipping container before curiously coming to rest seemingly in mid-air. The device buzzes for a second before a welcoming yellow light is cast below it.

Mercy knows a regenerative field when she see one. Bleeding from her side, she carefully angles her descent, mindful of the precious cargo in her arms.

Triple bursts of fire ring out nearby and Mercy watches in astonishment as Baptiste runs, jumps, dives, and all the while managing to shoot both opponents with bullets and twisting to heal nearby allies with biotic projectiles. He lobs one at Mercy and Tracer and Mercy feels the yellow splash of pure energy wash over her. Her torso stops bleeding and a second wind courses through her.

She ascends beautifully for a moment, “Heroes never die!”, before time slows and all goes to hell.

She spots the sniper's position too late. Widowmaker lines up her shot, and aims directly between Mercy’s eyes.

_“NO!”_ a voice yells, and Mercy watches in dismay as Baptiste boost-jumps directly in front of her, just as the explosive shot is fired.


	4. Chapter 4

Everything is a blur after Mercy gets sprayed with his blood. She watches Baptiste drop his gun as he falls limply through the air, but there’s nothing she can do. She grasps Tracer harder, feeling the familiar ache, and flies to safety, somehow inhumanely dodging all other bullets on the way out.

She flies straight to the dropship where she spends the rest of the mission desperately attempting to restore Tracer’s vitals. Her wings power down and Mercy feels her emotions numbing as she hits her flow state. Her hands blur in front of her, cutting, stitching, blotting, bandaging, and taping. As soon as she is able to somewhat restore Tracer to a state of stability, other heroes come trailing in. Many limping and bleeding. Her hands blur again in front of her as she mends all of her family.

There is only one person she doesn’t see returning to the dropship before take off.

When Ana takes over for her, she collapses in her seat and covers her face with her hands. It is a long flight home.

* * *

The next day, Angela moves through her morning routine with unfocused eyes and pauses for a moment beside her bloodstained armor before heading to the medical bay for recovery rounds.

Tracer thankfully begins to slowly stabilize, and the other heroes did not suffer any more critical hits. Except Baptiste.

She spots his name on the list in her charts and frowns at the typo. Curiosity gets the better of her and she investigates the far end of the bay. The first thing she sees is a floating omnic humming soothingly.

“Zenyatta? What is–“ Angela gasps when the omnic turns toward her and she sees the handsome, endearing man in the bed beside him. “How...” She drops her clipboard on the bed and brushes her fingers lightly around the patient before her. He is soundly asleep, but his vitals are stable.

“Death is whimsical today,” the omnic replies cooly. “Hello Dr. Ziegler. I am please to report a series of most fortunate events have rescued our dear Baptiste from the clutches of fate.”

A yellow orb floats and radiates calmness above Baptiste’s head.

Angela listens with incredulity as Zenyatta explains that after Baptiste took the bullet for Mercy, he fell to the portion of ground illuminated by his own immortality field. Zenyatta arrived just in time to stabilize his rapidly decaying condition. Pharah arrived a little too late as backup for the battle, but just in time to scoop Baptiste up and fly him to safety.

Angela crosses her arms and then covers her mouth in a moment of emotionality.

“He means a lot to you, I can see.” Zenyatta says quietly.

Angela simply nods.

Zenyatta hovers closer and gently says “Then perhaps it is best that I oversee his recovery. If only in the interest of maintaining professional boundaries.” 

Angela nods and reaches out for the omnic. Zenyatta straightens out his legs and send his orbs hovering higher in the air to give Angela a much needed hug. She allows herself a few tears of joy before swallowing her emotions to replace her mask of professional solemnity.

“You are a brave soul. The iris embraces you,” Zenyatta comments as he returns to his floating position.

“Thank you, Zenyatta. Thank you so much.”


	5. Chapter 5

Baptiste drifts in and out of consciousness, having difficulty discerning reality from hallucinations.

Did he really meet a guardian angel?

A soothing voice flows around him. “Do you have any dreams, my friend?”

Baptiste slowly opens his eyes and squints at the brightness.

“Peace be upon you, Baptiste. You have embraced the Iris and the Iris smiled upon you.”

“Hello there,” Baptiste whispers curiously. “And who might you be?”

“I am Zenyatta. We are in harmony,” the omnic replies, gesturing to a mysterious floating orb above Baptiste’s head.

Baptiste smiles and allows the feeling of tranquility emanating from the orb to wash over him. “Is she alright?” he asks suddenly. “My angel.”

“You exchanged fates with Mercy, and escaped with the greatest blessing. Your courage will not go unrewarded in the sight of the Iris,” Zenyatta replied mysteriously. “Rest now. Your body must recover from the walking along the brink of oblivion.”

Zenyatta gently touches Baptiste’s forehead with his middle two fingers and Baptiste sighs, sinking back into a deep slumber.

* * *

The next time Baptiste awakens, he finds another omnic at his bedside.

“Greetings,” it speaks, and Baptiste recognizes a filtered human voice. A cyborg, then.

“Hello,” Baptiste replies. He looks up to see the mysterious orb has vanished. He misses its warmth.

“Zenyatta will return. I am here to watch over you until then. My name is Genji. How are you feeling, Baptiste?”

“Nice to meet you, Genji.” Baptiste attempts to sit up more and winces as his chest complains sharply. He hisses at the pain, then feels cool metal hands gently pressing him back down.

“You were badly wounded, my friend. Allow yourself to heal. It was a valiant sacrifice.”

Baptiste smiles and relaxes again. _“Cheri...”_

Genji returns to his chair, watching Baptiste carefully. “Many of the other agents are looking forward to visiting you and relaying their praise. If you're feeling up to it, we can allow them entry one by one.

Baptiste winces. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

After a day of lying still with nothing else to do other than converse with the mysterious omnic and the friendly cyborg, Baptiste finally allows visitors. He braces himself for awkward reprimands from his superiors and fervent adoration from Angela’s friends.

His first visitor is Brigitte. “Tracer says hello and thank you,” she informs him. She tried to hide the pity in her eyes with humor. “Should I tell her you took that bullet for Mercy or let her think you’re her big hero?”

Baptiste chuckles with a small blush. The young squire seems very perceptive. “Well, I suppose I technically am her big hero. You can tell Tracer that she is equally my hero.”

Brigitte smiles at that. “It was very brave, what you did. Foolish, but brave.”

“I know.”

* * *

His next visitor is Winston. The large gorilla struggles to enter the space in the med bay where Baptiste is recovering without bumping into a few screens here and there. “Sorry, uh, sorry.” He adjusts his glasses. “Congratulations are in order, Baptiste. You’re the first person to receive the Overwatch medal of honor within a month of recruitment.”

Baptiste laughs. “Thank you, sir!”

Winston smiles awkwardly. “Jack told me to tell you that if you ever pull anything like that again though...” he trails off awkwardly.

“He’ll kick my ass into next week?” Baptiste offers.

“Basically.”

* * *

A few days into his recovery, Zenyatta asks if he feels well enough for a visit from Dr. Ziegler.

Baptiste gulps and touches his hair self-consciously. “On a professional basis, or personal?”

“She did not say, I’m afraid,” responded Zenyatta.

“Tell her yes, she may visit.”

Zenyatta begins to float away.

“Oh! Tell her, uh, I look forward to seeing her,” Baptiste adds, a little embarrassed.

Zenyatta inclines his head before turning away and floating off again.

Baptiste fidgets while he waits. He touches his hair again, prepares statements in his head, before finally settling on a mindless game on his tablet to distract himself from the entire situation.

When Angela arrives, she seems timid.

“ _Hallo,_ Baptiste.”

“Hello, Angela,” Baptiste responds, a smile spreading across his face without him realizing.

She steps carefully around the bed before sitting down next to him, in a similar fashion to the night in the hotel room. She brushes a piece of her thick bangs behind her ear and Baptiste can’t take his eyes off the motion.

Angela Ziegler was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen the moment he laid eyes on her in Venezuela. He remembers the moment like it was yesterday. To be colleagues with such a brilliant mind and kind heart is an honor.

To sacrifice himself to save her was his privilege.

She clears her throat nervously. “I’m afraid I don’t know what to say,” she admits.

Baptiste smiles playfully. “How ‘bout _‘thank you Baptiste!’_ Oh! You’re welcome!” They laugh together.

He itches to close the few inches between their hands, but knows better than to ever make a move on such a prominent medical professional in his field. She’s technically his superior, to add to it. Thus he remains politely friendly and patient with her.

His professionalism doesn’t stop him from flirting in his native tongue, however.

_“Sweetheart, your smile warms me,"_ he says in Haitian Creole. "Thank you for visiting me. It is good to see you well.”

“Thank you for your swift actions in the field. If it weren’t for you, Tracer and many others would have suffered much greater injuries.” She doesn’t thank him outright for sacrificing his life for her, surviving only by the sheer, blind luck. She doesn’t have to. The gratitude is written all over her face.

As they chat amicably, there are many times Baptiste sees Angela’s eyes wander along his bandages and he fears she may spill tears based on the expression of despair that flashes there. He strives to keeps things light, however, determined to see that sweet angelic smile pointed at him as much as possible.

As she bids him farewell, a piece of Mercy’s courage burns inside her and she leans down quickly to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Baptiste doesn’t stop smiling the rest of the day.


	6. Chapter 6

About a week after the failed mission, Baptiste is released from the med bay and the first thing he does is go for a jog around the base.

The seagull cries, the sound of the crashing waves against the cliff shores, and the cool, salty air soothes Baptiste like nothing else. His chest is still sore, but he keeps his exertion low and simply enjoys the views.

Later that evening, Brigitte visits him in his quarters to inform him that she and Reinhardt are throwing him a celebratory dinner, as thanks for saving Mercy and supporting many others on the team during the mission. He feels bashfully grateful, excited to have proved himself worthy of his comrades’ trust, but also nervous to be the center of attention for such a long period of time on the base.

Reinhardt grills enough steaks for every agent to have two (but he and Zarya eat most of them) and Brigitte whips up a giant bowl of salad and another giant bowl of mashed potatoes. Lena and Mei offer their assistance preparing and serving the enormous meal, hugging and thanking Baptiste when he arrives.

Reinhardt clasps his shoulder roughly as he slaps a large slab of meat onto his plate. “You have the spirit of a true Crusader! Your honor knows no bounds!”

“Thank you for such a fine meal! It means a lot to be a part of this organization.” He addresses most of the agents in attendance with the last part. “That is the honor I know.” Baptiste beams proudly as Lúcio pats his back and McCree smiles and nods at him. Others raise their drinks.

This is the first time almost all the recalled Overwatch agents on the base have been together all at once in a long time. Baptiste sees even Jack Morrison having a good time.

After the meal, people split off into groups. Lena, Lúcio, and Hana head to the makeshift base arcade (constructed mainly by Hana herself); McCree, Pharah, and Zarya have a drinking slash arm wrestling contest (Hanzo watching on disdainfully); Genji and Zenyatta retire to their quarters hand in hand for an evening mediation, and all the senior agents from the original Overwatch migrate to the lounge to swap stories and get drunk together. All other agents split off separately to return to their various personal activities for the evening.

“You’ve told this one a t’ousand times!” Torbjörn complains as Reinhardt regales onward about the sacrifice of his dear compatriot Balderich, paying him no mind.

“Live with honor... Die with glory... Those were the last words he said to me...” Reinhardt covers his face at the end of the story and Brigitte pats his shoulder comfortingly as she prys his sixth large mug of beer out of his hands.

Torbjörn rolls his eyes.

“He sounds like he was a great man,” Baptiste offers sympathetically.

“I’m sure he would say the same about you!” Mei says, looking at Baptiste.

“You all are flattering me way too much,” Baptiste laughs. “It all happened in a split second. I’m sure anyone would have made the same decision...” Baptiste trails off smiling at Angela sitting next to him on the couch. He delights in her light blush, but thinks to himself that surely anyone would die for the miraculous woman beside him.

“I’ve taken a bullet from Amélie, you’re not so special,” Ana prods him.

“When you get to be our age, there aren’t many people who haven’t put a bullet in you,” Jack laughs with Ana.

“Yes, but try dodging those bullets and healing your allies simultaneously,” Angela responds. Ana nods at the statement.

“In heels!” Baptiste says, happy to bolster the impressiveness of Angela’s field work. His rum and coke loosens his inhibitions and he places a hand on her knee, squeezing as everyone laughs together.

Angela takes a large swig from her bottle of German beer.

Brigitte is the first to decide to retire, convincing Torbjörn to follow her shortly thereafter. The two of them support Reinhardt to his quarters. Jack and Ana slip out separately after curt goodnights.

Baptiste listens, enraptured, to the tragic story of Mei’s research partners at the Antarctic facility. He comforts her as she lingers on the memories of those people, looking down to where Angela had started to doze on his shoulder with a look of adoration.

Mei smiles at the two of them and reads the room. “It was fun to spend the evening with everyone together,” she says. “Goodnight, Baptiste.”

“Goodnight,” he responds politely.

At last he’s alone with his angel. “ _Cheri,_ I think it’s past your bedtime,” he whispers playfully to her.

Angela’s long eyelashes flutter sleepily, and she sits up once she notices it’s just the two of them. “Oh, _entschuldigung..."_ She tucks her bangs behind her ear sheepishly and stands to collect remaining glasses, bottles, and cans. Baptiste stands to help.

After discarding the garbage, Baptiste offers to walk Angela to her room. He holds out his arm akimbo, feeling slightly silly about it a moment too late.

“Thank you,” she says and grasps his arm.

He escorts them along a scenic route on purpose, hoping to lengthen their time together. Angela doesn’t seem to mind.

“The stars are beautiful,” she remarks quietly.

“Yes,” he agrees, watching her gaze upward with a soft smile.

At the entrance to her quarters, she pauses before entering the access code and turns around to look straight at Baptiste. “I don’t know how to thank you properly,” she says, eyes threatening to tear up.

Baptiste shakes his head. “Please think nothing of it. The moment presented itself and I couldn’t let it pass. I know you will have my back next time I need it,” he says with confidence.

Angela nods, then looks down and shifts on her feet, seemingly looking for the right words.

Baptiste simply tilts her chin up gently and leans forward, kissing her with the lightest brush of lips. “Goodnight, Angela.” He smiles and walks away after that.

Angela touches her lips as she watches him walk away, frozen in the moment. “Goodnight, Baptiste,” she says quietly to no one.

* * *

Jack drills the agents in teams harder than ever before. Every other day, agents are sent to the med bay with minor injuries and strains, keeping Angela busy. After watching Hanzo, Lúcio, Hana, and Genji run through a practically impossible practice battle against dummy bots in the training grounds, Baptiste heads to the med bay to offer his assistance to Angela.

“Thank you!” she offers hurriedly. “I just have to find some medication in storage, I will be back very soon. Can you see to Zarya and Hanzo in the meantime?”

“Certainly,” Baptiste answers.

Zarya complains of a bothersome headache after a recent grapple in training. Baptiste inspects her pupils for dilation before fetching her some ice and a mini regen field. He leaves her relaxing in the glowing yellow light to find Hanzo sitting on a bed nearby, rubbing his shoulder.

“I saw the move that caused this strain,” Baptiste says as he massages the man’s tattooed shoulder. “I didn’t think anyone could track a target moving behind them like that. Especially with a bow and arrow!”

“I did not initiate the jump properly,” Hanzo admonishes himself gruffly. “I should have had the spin momentum without relying so much on my back and shoulder.”

Baptiste finds another portable regen field and tapes it to Hanzo’s shoulder blade. “Rest up. You should be feeling back to normal by tomorrow.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Hanzo dips his head regally before taking his leave.

Baptiste peeks at Zarya again, and seeing her relaxing, he turns to explore the med bay a bit more. He finds the Caduceus staff leaned against a locker in the back near Angela’s office and he picks it up delicately, inspecting its design. Baptiste curiously opens the locker and finds Mercy’s Valkyrie suit.

He shudders at the spattering of dried blood on the dented torso armor.

The clack of heels alerts him to company behind him and he quickly shuts the locker and replaces the staff where he found it. Angela clears her throat. “I have yet to have that tuned,” she says.

“Did you build it yourself?”

“Yes, over the course of a year, back when Overwatch had the resources to fund this department out the rear.” She smiles. “Torbjörn consulted with the armor and helps me keep the suit updated.”

“It’s fantastic,” Baptiste blurts. “You’re... fantastic.” He shakes his head.

Angela sheepishly repositions her glasses. “Excuse me,” she says with a small smile as she walks away in embarrassment.

“I’ll see you later, angel,” Baptiste calls after her, signalling his departure. Angela turns around and nods curtly with a smile. Baptiste sees the touch of blush in her cheeks and strolls out of the med bay with a spring in his step.

Shortly thereafter, he finds himself wandering the grounds and runs into Zenyatta in a small garden space overlooking the ocean cliffside.

“My wise friend, what a pleasure finding you here,” he says as he approaches the omnic.

Zenyatta turns from where he's floating over the grass, admiring the view. “Peace be upon you, Baptiste. How are you recovering?”

Baptiste stands next to him and crosses his arms, smiling triumphantly out at the horizon. “I am well. This place is healing. I feel whole here.” Baptiste knows Zenyatta will understand that he is also referring to the recovery from his shameful past.

“Indeed my friend, indeed.” Zenyatta’s orbs hum as they spin around his head slowly.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Baptiste asks curiously, “What do you know of love, Zenyatta?”

“Love... Hmm.” Zenyatta mulls his response. “Love is like the ocean. It can be tranquil or stormy, but nothing compares to the power it holds.”

“Do omnics feel love?” Baptiste asks. He hopes it’s not too presumptuous of a question.

“I believe so,” Zenyatta responds. “I feel my circuitry electrified with emotion in certain moments. The resulting warmth is what I consider love.”

Baptiste doesn’t respond, wondering absently about the wonder of connection in humans and omnics alike.

“Do you love, my friend?” Zenyatta looks up at Baptiste.

A warm smiles spreads across Baptiste’s face. “Yes... I think I’m in love with the most beautiful person to walk this earth.”

Zenyatta hums. “The Iris rewards the selfless. Embrace this love, for it will be your greatest strength in your darkest moments.”

Baptiste stays in the garden with Zenyatta until the sun goes down, feeling the omnic’s peaceful energy leading him into a near meditative trance. He thanks Zenyatta for the company before taking his leave, heading to bed to prepare for a rigorous training session of his own tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

They should have expected the retaliation.

The strike team infiltrates the base in the middle of the night a couple weeks after Overwatch’s failed Talon mission.

“Gotcha.” Sombra hacks Lúcio’s skates when he tries to escape and knocks him out with the butt of her machine pistol.

“Pathetic,” Amélie spits kicking Ana in the face. The older woman glares from where she’s restrained on the floor before her vision goes black from another impact.

Baptiste wakes calmly to the familiar feeling of a cool metal barrel pressed to his temple. “Don’t make a sound,” growls a cloaked ghoul. Baptiste clenches his teeth as he’s ordered to get out of bed and kneel on the floor.

He thinks of his angel before the gun cracks against the back of his head and he falls forward with an unconscious thud.

* * *

“Awaken, Baptiste,” a soothing voice commands. “Your assistance is required.”

Baptiste drifts into consciousness and immediately covers the injury on the back of his head with his hand. He groans and slowly pulls himself up off the floor to his knees. There is no light at all in the space and Baptiste feels concern when he doesn’t hear the familiar humming accompanying Zenyatta’s presence.

“Where are we? Did they take your orbs?”

“Yes, it appears we have all been captured defenselessly,” Zenyatta responds cooly.

Ana curses Talon in Arabic quietly to herself.

“Who is all here?” Baptiste is totally blind in the encompassing darkness of the room, feeling along the cold metal floor for purchase.

“They kidnapped all the supports!” Lúcio responds.

“There are six of us,” Angela speaks.

Baptiste crawls toward her and feels a body draped along the floor. “Brigitte?” he asks with a lilt of fear.

Angela cradles the other woman’s head in her lap, smoothing her hair. “She fought back harder than she should have, I’m afraid. Her pulse and breathing are normal,” Angela haphazardly assures Baptiste.

He can hear the fear and sadness in her voice. He sits next to her and presses his forehead to her temple gently. She leans into the contact.

“I believe it is still unknown to our allies of our absence, considering the early hour,” Zenyatta says. “We should plan a course of action.”

“They’ll come for us... right? Maybe we should just wait to be rescued?” Lúcio sounds so young and helpless without his stolen Vishkar tech.

Before anyone responds, lights flash on in the warehouse and the Overwatch agents are all temporarily blinded. Even Zenyatta must temper his visual processing for a moment.

Ana responds first to their company. “Gabriel! I should have known.”

A man in a hooded cloak with a frightening white mask slinks forward, heavy boot steps resounding. “Shut up, hag. This was a long time coming.”

“Gabriel? What happened to you?” Angela says fearfully.

“You tell me, doc,” Gabriel spits. His form blurs into smoke at the edges and Baptiste feels his palms start to sweat.

“I’m here to inform you all of your role in our plan. And don’t even think about trying to escape.” The ghoulish man pointedly looks up to where Baptiste spots the thin silhouette of a sniper on a catwalk far above. “You are the bait. Yes, your dumb friends are on their way now to rescue you.” The man stalks around the group on the floor menacingly. “But your usefulness will expire upon their arrival. If any of you try anything before then, Widowmaker will pick you off one by one. I’ve instructed her that head shots are unnecessary. So, if you’re hoping for a quick death, you all might as well cooperate.”

“You homicidal maniac!” Ana snarls.

“Please don’t do this, Gabriel,” Angela begs.

“It’s already been done.”

A woman appears suddenly beside the ghoul, purple light glittering in her arrival. “Explosives armed, Reaper. You just say the word and we’ll have us a lovely fireworks show,” she chuckles, looking down on the Overwatch agents.

Reaper nods curtly. “Secure the facility. Goodbye, agents.”

And with that the ghoulish man crosses his arms and fads away into wisps of black smoke. Similarly, the other woman waves her hand and vanished into the purple light. The hostages are left alone once more under the watchful gaze of the sniper.

“This is really it, isn’t it?” Lúcio asks with a shaky voice. “We’re all going to die...”

Baptiste waits for someone to reassure him, but Ana and Angela simply share a look of resigned regret. He speaks up himself, “No one’s dying today. Not on my watch.”

Baptiste stands slowly, eyeing the silhouette carefully. 

“No– don’t!” Angela begs quietly, grasping his hand.

He ignores the pleas and takes a step forward.

The silhouette doesn’t move. All is silent.

“It’s not real,” Baptiste remarks, hoping he sounds confident. “It’s just a dummy. Mind games. They can’t stop us from walking out of here while Overwa–“

The rest of his sentence is drowned out by the shout of rifle shot. Baptiste gasps and holds his breath, but doesn’t feel an injury. He looks down and sees a smoking bullet crater in the metal floor less than an inch before his foot.

He takes a step back, face paling.

Ana swears again in Arabic, Angela covers her mouth with a look of horror, and Lúcio starts taking deep, slow breaths to force himself to calm down.

Baptiste raises his hands in surrender and nods his head low in deference to the silhouette before settling back down on the floor next to Angela and the still-unconscious Brigitte. He presses his damp palms together and holds his forefingers to the front of his mouth.

Unarmed, they’re defenseless against Widowmaker. Otherwise, the six of them could easily overtake her and their other captors. Or, at least the five of then who are conscious.

Baptiste considers the consequences if all of them split in different directions at the same time, hopefully finding cover separately soon after. But he knows it would be a risk of at least one of them taking a debilitating, or possibly life-threatening, shot from the sniper. He couldn’t stand to see anyone hurt or sacrificed for their escape.

He covers his face with his hands, struggling to come up with the answer to their situation.

“Overwatch will rescue us,” Baptiste hears Angela reassure Lúcio quietly. “They’re coming now. Everything will be okay.”

He looks up to see her trying to hide painful emotion threatening to spill over in her eyes. Her expression mirrors Lúcio’s, who then curls up with his arms covering his face over his knees.

_“Cheri,”_ Baptiste starts gently, not knowing the right words to comfort his angel in this moment.

Angela sniffs away tears as she strokes Brigitte’s brown hair in her lap.

Baptiste takes her free hand, capturing her attention. “Angela. Should these be my final moments, I wouldn’t be happier to spend them in any other company,” he says quietly.

Angela smiles at him softly.

“Ah, _bèl_. Such a lovely smile.”

Gunshots ring out in the distance. _“They’re here,”_ Ana says in Arabic, unknowingly reverting to her native tongue, lost in her own reflections.

Lúcio’s loud breaths in and out become shakier and he visibly trembles in his curled up position. Ana scoots closer to him and places her arm around his shoulder in a rare moment of maternal affection.

A small beeping sound starts up close by. The gunshots and explosions sounding closer now.

“Baptiste...” Angela voice is thick. “Would you go to dinner with me?”

The verb’s tense is not lost on Baptiste. “ _Anj,_ I would follow you to the ends of the earth.” He holds her face in his hand and kisses a tear away from the corner of her mouth.

Angela closes her eyes and leans in to kiss him properly. She tilts her head and slots her trembling lips in his.

Their contact is electric, Baptiste feeling like a silent buzzing spreads from his lips into the rest of his body. Despite their dour situation, for a moment he feels pure bliss. Like he is caught up in a reverie of a life built around this woman. Tending to her every need and working to see that beautiful smile day in and day out.

As the beeping steadily increases pace, none of the hostages take note of the silhouette silently slipping away. Nor does anyone pay any attention to the atypical mechanical whirring of one omnic in deep meditation.


	8. Chapter 8

One’s first kiss is unlikely to be very memorable in terms of quality, but it is often memorable nonetheless in terms of exception. Angela has had many typical first kisses with many people, always being able to recall that feeling of exhilaration, nervousness, doubt, and excitement, all blending together to leave her stomach in knots. Although, the most memorable kisses in terms of quality often are forgotten to quantity, after one finds that special person to produce such aforementioned quality.

Angela’s first kiss with Baptiste feels like a stolen moment. A piece of adolescence caught anachronistically out of place. She spends that night lying in bed feeling like she’ll never be able to fall asleep with electricity buzzing through her limbs and a mutinous grin pasted to her face.

Angela’s second kiss with Baptiste, however, was explosive. Literally.

Tears slip down her face as she kisses the man she knows suddenly would be worth the awkwardness, the uncertainty, and the embarrassment of an incapacitating crush. He understands her loss to the Omnic Crisis like no one else. He treats her with respect and dignity. In the split moment between slotting herself around his upper lip and lower lip, she suddenly can imagine hours, days, weeks in this man’s company.A best friend, a partner, for life.

She opens her eyes and gasps as the world turns to fire. Her eyes lock in mirrored surprise with Baptiste’s. He looks like the angelic one now, a halo of flames and bright yellow light surrounding him. Angela’s hair whips up around her, dancing in the brilliant rays of energy encompassing all of them.

_ “PASS INTO THE IRIS.” _

In a moment, it’s all over. Debris cascades all around them, ashes blowing around in the air circulated by patches of fire dotting the warehouse. All the lights exploded, leaving the walls illuminated partially by firelight, but primarily by pure, transcendent energy emanating from Zenyatta.

Angela looks up at him in amazement. Floating a couple meters in the air and sporting several more arms than before, Zenyatta’s eyes are glowing brightly and blinding yellow light shines out in every direction from his center. His extra arms ripple like moonlight on water and Angela can discern patterns of energy in the light, as if spelling out ancient secrets in a forgotten tongue.

The light dims and dissipates as Zenyatta returns to his natural form. “Experience tranquility, my friends. All hope is not lost. Proceed without fear.”

Before she can think of what to say, Angela feels the weight in her lap stir.

“Where am I?” Brigitte asks, peering through the returned darkness.

Angela inspects Brigitte thoroughly, checking her pulse and pupils in the firelight. She seems completely healthy all of the sudden. “We were captured by Talon...” Angela explains, still feeling bewildered. “But we’re getting rescued soon, I believe.”

“Zenyatta! That was AMAZING!” Lúcio exclaims, all traces of fear gone from his expression. “How did you do that!?”

Ana stands up, stretching her back and bending her knees experimentally. “I feel young again!” she remarks.

“I have achieved oneness with the Iris. It flows through me on rare occasion, if I am able to call upon the power,” Zenyatta responds.

Baptiste and Angela help Brigitte to her feet as the others straighten as well.

“What do you guys say we get out of here?” Baptiste suggests with a classic smile. He grabs Angela’s hand and she takes his like it’s second nature, a feeling of hope inside her blooming into unadulterated joy.

The six of them move together, stepping carefully around the wreckage of the building and out through a crumbled wall into the night. The gunfire they heard before is much more isolated and subdued now, only spurts of shots heard here and there around the grounds.

It is not long before the Overwatch rescue team investigate the explosion and come across the group sneaking around in their pajamas. It’s almost ironic that the healers make the return flight unscathed while working to patch up the other bedraggled looking agents.

A warm feeling of contentment and security has taken root in Angela. She goes about her business attending to minor bumps and bruises, as well as patching up the more serious injuries, around her with the ghost of a smile always touching her lips. Baptiste stays close, assisting when necessary. His fleeting touches to her shoulder or back do not go unnoticed by Angela. His company feels comfortable now, like having him near her is natural, correct.

Angela doesn’t want to be apart from this man ever again.

Winston leads a debriefing back at the Gibraltar base. The sunrise that was peeking through the return ship’s viewports now blends into warm blue-skied daytime. Angela consults with Jack and Winston about how the kidnappers could have infiltrated their defenses, and Winston initiates a full diagnostic on Athena’s monitoring systems.

The meeting feels like it’s dragging as Angela longs for her bed. She rubs her eyes and yawns out an answer again.

“That will be all, doctor,” Winston says, eyeing her exhaustion. He nudges Jack with his elbow when the man begins to ask another question. The ape gives him a pointed look before turning back to Angela. “We will contact you at a later time with any other inquiries. Uh, dismissed.”

Angela dips her head and departs for her quarters. She stops by the kitchen on the way and nabs a muffin from a container on the counter, but stops when she’s addressed from behind.

“Doctor, I’m glad I caught you. I want express my deepest gratitude for returning Zenyatta home safe.” Genji’s filtered voice sounds from a corner. “If anything had happened to him...” he trails off. “It was my fault he was captured at all. I should’ve been there, protected him...”

Angela approaches him and places a hand on his curled in shoulder. “Zenyatta saved _us,_ Genji. If it weren’t for him, none of us would’ve made it. Hasn’t he told you what happened?”

“He seemed so tired, I thought I’d give him space to meditate and recharge.”

Angela smiles. “That was thoughtful of you, but I think Zenyatta would appreciate your presence after such a harrowing experience. Ask him about what happened. You should be proud of his bravery.”

“Very well, doctor.” Genji stands and bows slightly. “May you find some rest yourself.”

“Thank you, Genji.” Angela suppresses another yawn and makes a break for the door after Genji walks away, hoping for no other obstacles to her bed.

She finishes her muffin as she walks down the hallway to her private quarters and rubs her eyes when she sees someone sitting in front of her door. She approaches quietly, noticing they do no react to her presence.

“Baptiste? Why are you sleeping on the floor?” Angela tries to hide the amusement in her voice with concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh!” Baptiste sits up straight suddenly, reprimanding himself for dozing off. “I was waiting for you to finish your meeting. I’m sorry, I guess I’m a little tired after our midnight adventure.” He scratches the back of his head in embarrassment before standing and stretching.

Angela doesn’t hide her pleased smile. “Please come in.” She takes his hand and unlocks her door, leading him inside.

Baptiste sits on the bed stiffly, suddenly feeling like he’s imposing his company, as Angela moves about the room, increasing the tint on the windows to dim the room and straightening her things.

“You must be tired. We can hang out later, if you want...” Baptiste starts, but Angela sits down next to him and shakes her head.

“I’m... glad you’re here. I like spending time with you.” She blushes. “Join me in a nap?”

It’s Baptiste’s turn to blush, remembering how difficult it was for him before to sleep comfortably sharing a bed with Angela. At the time he’d be so concerned with giving her space, he wasn’t able to relax entirely. He knows now that she wants him here, in her private quarters, and they have and understanding of feelings between them.

“That sounds really nice.” Baptiste slips off his shoes and wrestles with himself for a moment before shedding his bulky pants. He hopes it isn’t too presumptuous of him.

Angela feigns apathy as the beautiful man strips in front of her. She clears her throat slightly as she crawls under her covers. Baptiste sidles in next to her and turns on his side at the edge of their shared pillow. Angela mirrors his position and the two of them share shy smiles.

“I feel safer falling asleep with you here. I hope Winston is able to improve Athena’s security protocols...” Angela feels awkward trying to make conversation.

“I won’t let anything like that happen to you again, if I can help it,” Baptiste says quietly. “To think those monsters almost took you away from me...” He tucks a stray hair behind Angela’s ear.

Angela’s eyes unfocus, remembering her fear in the moment of their near-death experience.

“You know what I was thinking when the bomb went off?” Baptiste is nearly whispering now. “I was thinking, I am the luckiest guy in the world.”

Angela huffs at that.

Baptiste smiles and continues. “Out of all the billions of people in this world, I got to meet you. I was more than content to spend my last moments with the person I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

Angela reaches out and caresses the stubble forming on Baptiste’s cheek, feeling almost overwhelmed with sudden emotion. “But... we hardly know each other. How can you be so sure...?”

Baptiste grasps her hand on his cheek and closes his eyes. “I just know, _Cheri._ And I want to get to know you, better than anyone else ever has.” He opens his eyes to convey his sincerity. “I want to be by your side for as long as you’ll have me. I’ll go wherever you want to go. I want to care for you and protect you... if you’ll have me.”

Angela doesn’t know how to respond. Her thoughts feel all jumbled in her head. One part of her is screaming to kiss him until neither of them can breathe, another part of her feels that this all sounds too good to be true. “Yes,” she blurts. “Stay with me. Stay here.” She allows Baptiste to pull her to him and curls against his chest.

Baptiste hums and Angela feels the warm vibration. “I’m here. I’m yours.” He curls his arms around her and kisses her head. _“My angel.”_

They drift off together, smiling peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that's where I'm going to end it. Thanks for reading.


End file.
